Blood Appreciation Class
by whenstarsdie
Summary: "... we're here for the exact same reason." Hermione Granger is sick and tired of her life. She hides in the Prefect's Bathroom one night to release her pain. If comfort came in the form of Draco Malfoy, will she embrace it? Oneshot. Deals with cuting.


Blood Appreciation Class

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**Disclaimer**: My claim to owning Harry Potter's characters is as true as my claim to JKR not writing them. However, my claim to owning the plot is as true as my claim to the fact that the sky is blue, and you're breathing in oxygen right now.

**A/N**: These fic contains cutting, so if you're uncomfortable with that, kindly leave. And I must first say that I do _not _encourage self-harm. Pardon any errors in the fic. Please R&R!

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Head Girl Hermione Granger stepped gingerly into the Prefects' Bathroom after checking the hallways for any sign of life for the umpteenth time. She quickly closed the portrait guarding the doorway and leaned against it, heaving a sigh of relief.

Walking towards the bathtub, she carelessly tossed a locking charm onto the portrait, followed by a silencing one; she just could not risk getting caught by any Professor. As Head Girl, they counted on her to set an example for keeping curfews, which she had apparently _not _been doing so for the past few months.

Leaning over the edge of the enormous bathtub, she randomly chose a few taps and turned them fill the tub till it was about half full. She reached into her pocket and drew out a sharp razor, its blade glinting dangerously in the light. Rolling up one sleeve, she settled herself in a comfortable position and examined the bracelets of cuts covering her wrist. With a wry smile, she added a new one to the list, sighing with content.

She lazily dangled her hand over the edge of the tub, letting the crimson droplets fall into the lilac water. Her blood swirled mysteriously in the water, forming an abstract piece of art.

_Mudblood_.

Her blood boiled at the thought of the spiteful word. She was sick and tired of being taunted by the Slytherins about her parentage for the past 6 years. _Why_? Why couldn't they just accept her for who she was? A tear slithered down her cheek and joined the pale- purplish mixture in the bathtub.

She ran the blade across her skin again, smiling at the satisfaction it provided. Her unhappiness flowed out of her body with each drop of blood. This was her addiction, her ecstasy. Though she knew all her pain will come back when the bleeding stops, she needed this temporary relief, no matter how short it is.

With each drop that left her, she felt happier, stronger. _She was_ _free_. If only this could last forever…

The initial pain of her skin tearing was long gone, replaced by the exhilaration of her troubles leaving her.

The irony of the scene made her laugh. She, Little Miss Perfect, the role model of all female species of Hogwarts, best Head Girl in history, was resorting to the sickest method on earth to cope with stress – self-mutilation.

A whimsical smile on her lips, she let the cool blade graze her skin again, cutting deeper into the wound. A tear trickled down her cheek and into the opened flesh. She gasped and shook her arm wildly in attempt to get rid of the stinging pain.

"Rubbing salt into your own wounds, Granger? That's _stupid_."

Hermione froze. She automatically slipped her razor into the pockets of her robes and replaced it with her wand.

"I thought I locked the door…" she mumbled to her herself.

"Well, you thought wrong then," he remarked rudely.

She scowled and hid her wrist behind her. "Can't you tell that someone's using the bathroom, Malfoy?"

"The door wasn't locked," he shrugged innocently.

Hermione swore inwardly. Her Locking Charm must have missed its target. "Fine," she snapped, "now that you know someone _is_ using the bathroom, can you_ leave_?" she emphasised on the last word.

He smirked and slowly walked around the bathroom, examining its fine décor for once in 7 years. "No," he replied simply, enjoying the look of fury marring her gentle features.

"_WHAT_!" she shrieked, her voice rising shrilly. "I could… I could have been _naked_!" she flushed.

He ignored her, clearly amused by her reaction. "Oh, and before I forget, _this_ is how you perform an _easy _Locking Charm._Colloportus_."

Hermione's jaw must have drop at least a metre. _Oh great_. Now she's locked with her arch-nemesis Draco Malfoy in the Prefects' Bathroom with a bleeding wrist.

"Malfoy, unlock the door at once!" she practically screamed. She knew that her handy _alohamora_ won't work on his spells.

"Say that again."

"Say _what_?"

"Say my name again?"

"_WHAT_?"

She assumed that though her Locking Charm had failed, the silencing one must have made it to the door, for there were no Professors rushing to the Bathroom _yet_. That shriek scored high on the decibel scale.

Draco struck his fingers into his ears, eyes squeezed tightly together. "God, mudblood, you sound like a banshee. There's no need for you to scream; I can hear you perfectly well," he winced. "C'mon... it's not everyday you call me by my first name, _Hermion_e."

The word rolled off his tongue like poison, sending shivers down her spine. Her name sounded like something sinister off his lips. She was beginning to feel very afraid and uneasy. "_Get_. _Out_," she said through gritted teeth.

The smirk seemed plastered on his face as he stared down at her. "_Like a vulture and it's prey_," she thought bitterly. Her hand withdrew into her robes again, this time deepening the damage caused by the razor. _Ooh, how much she hated this__ prat_.

"Why don't _you_ leave?" he challenged. "I too, need to use this Bathroom. And you, mudblood, should give it up for someone better than you." He walked towards her, scarily reminding her of his cold and ruthless father.

"…and if I'm not mistaken, we're here for the exact same reason."

Hermione felt her heart stop. "Ow!" The blade had ventured too far. Before she could draw her hand out, Draco had grasped it and yanked it towards him, observing the fine artwork of the razor. He politely planted a kiss on the wound, taking in the luscious beauty of the crimson.

Hermione felt giddy as she shrank her hand back from his touch. _How did he know she was cutting herself_? And if were here for the _exact same reason_, did it mean…

"Oh! And Granger? If you want to hide a bleeding wrist, you can't forget about the _water_," he gave a mysterious smirk.

She mentally smacked herself. How could she forget? _The water_. She stared into the bathtub, the brilliant ruby of her reflection laughing at her carelessness.

Draco's reflection was getting closer to hers, finally settling himself beside her. He gave a dramatic sigh and kicked off his shoes, rolled up his trousers, soaking his feet in the stained water.

"I wonder what the old hag McGonagall will say if she knew of this," he gave a low chuckle. "The assumingly perfect Heads are happily draining their life away with razors. We're supposed to be leading The Ideal Life, Granger. Why are you…" he paused, searching for the appropriate word to use. "Attending this blood appreciation class?"

"Cute, Malfoy." She sighed, "You don't understand. You _won't_ understand."

"Try me."

She stared up at his cold grey orbs, void of any emotions. Tears unknowingly filled her hazel ones. The soulless eyes seemed so convincing, so comforting. She soon began confiding in the enemy, against her morale.

"Everything is just so wrong! _Everything_! I don't know if I'm going to pass every subject for N.E.W.Ts; imagine if I failed! And Harry… he's so stressed out about the Horcruxes. I wish I could help him in some way, but I _can't_. And I know it's dumb; but he's closer to Ron than me, and it makes me feel like I've got no friends. Don't you dare laugh, Malfoy," she flushed pink, stopping for breath.

"And Ron…" she continued; words kept finding their way to her mouth like a flowing stream; she couldn't help it. "Ron he's flirting with Lavander again. I'm so afraid of losing him! I've never felt so alone… And everyone expects so much of me since I'm Head Girl. It's as though I don't own my life anymore. And… and…"

She could go on no further, sobs wracking her small frame. Draco wrapped his arms protectively around her, pulling her close to his chest.

"Believe it or not, Granger, I understand exactly how you feel," he muttered, kissing her forehead.

"So…" she sniffed, wiping her tears away after a comforting silence. She wished time could freeze, just her lying in Malfoy's arms, crying her heart out, safe from all her nightmares of the world. "What about _you_?"

"If you want to continue with this," He picked up her hand, "I would advise cutting along the wrist. One wrong deep cut could have you losing-"

"Don't change the subject, Malfoy," she pulled away from him.

He chose to ignore her statement. "-which is why my arm is in such a state." He rolled up his sleeve, exposing multiple cuts spread randomly all over his arm. Hermione merely stared, dumbfounded, forgetting her intentions.

"I've got leukemia," he admitted bitterly, his hand lightly brushing against the bruises his cuts have masked. _Why hadn't she noticed them before_?

"The Healers only give me a month; even _pureblood_ can't save me now," he spat the word as though it was something rancid. "I'd rather have your mud for my blood if I could live."

She let the insult slip past this once, deciding to be understanding. "I don't know what to say-"

"Then don't say anything!" he snapped, the short-lived truce now gone, bleak bitterness in his eyes.

Hermione was about to retort but caught herself. Her eyes fell on a shiny silver blade clutched tightly in his hand. The handle was the head on an elegant serpent, its emerald eyes mocking her cheap razor. She felt so inferior compared to him.

With one swift motion he ran the blade across his arm and a drop of blood landed in the water, followed by another, and another…

Mystified, Hermione's eyes never left the droplets as they swirled around her blood. For a moment she thought the blood will remain that way, the barriers of blood, house, loyalty, and everything else separating them. The pain of inferiority she felt surpassed all other emotions.

In a split second, his blood clashed with hers; the 2 liquids flowing, mixing, blending to form one deep crimson.

"You see?" he laughed dryly, "My pureblood is no better than your filthy one."

"Don't you dare insult me, Malfoy!" she warned; her wand out, pointing dangerously at him.

He didn't even look threatened.

Draco gave a chuckle of amusement and leaned in towards her. Her hand did not flinch, want still aimed at him.

"You don't scare me, Granger."

He grasped her wrist painfully with a vice-like grip, knocking her wand out of it. She yanked her hand back, but his grip merely tightened. With his other hand, Draco traced the art on her wrist with one finger, drawing fresh blood from it. He brought the finger to his lips, licking off the blood with relish.

"You're sick!" she pulled her hand back and leapt to her feet.

Draco grinned at her humongous reaction. "Granger… Granger… What are you revolted at? Aren't your de-stressing habits as sick as mine?" He pulled himself up and stepped towards her, forcing her to back up against the wall. "Aren't you attending blood appreciation classes as well? You're no different from me."

"Yes I am! _Yes I am_!" she kept her tone firm and loud, trying to convince herself more than him. "I'm better than you are. I made the right choices and I'm not afraid to stand up against what I don't want. I'm not a coward, unlike _you_—"

"_Coward_?" he cut in, a gleam of anger in his eyes. "You're just as pathetic as I am, you filthy little mudblood." He stressed the last word, cutting into her pride.

"You hide in a Bathroom alone at night, cutting yourself. Why? _Because you're too afraid to face up to your troubles_,_ that's why_!"

"I'm not a coward, you twitchy ferret!" she screamed, losing her composure, covering her ears, a feeble attempt to block out the truth in his words. "You despicable prat, you don't know what it's like to be _me_! You don't know what it feels like to have everything going wrong. You don't know-"

Draco did not know what else he didn't know for the next moment his lips crashed down on hers.

Words left her mouth and her eyes grew wide. Shock, horror and comfort all rolled into one in her hazels. She knew this kiss wasn't of love, like the ones she shared with Viktor, or Ron. It was one of sheer understanding, of acceptance, of comfort. It was such a relief to find someone who was totally like her, who understood what she was going through, yet was so distant.

Draco started to pull back after a while, seeing that he was not getting any response from her. He could have cried from the disappointment. He thought she'd understand; that she felt the same; that this was not a want, or a source of pleasure. It was a comforting desperation.

His train of thoughts came to an abrupt stop when Hermione prolonged the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his slender neck, deepening their kiss. His hand found itself on the back of her bushy head, forcing her to leave only a hairline crack between them. His other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. Her hand got lost in his silky blonde hair; she was lost in the poison paradise of his lips.

His grip suddenly tightened, though not possessively. His lips clamped down painfully on hers. She wanted to scream from the pain, but she could not. He didn't seem to notice her fruitless struggles and attempts to shove him away.

She shrieked when his vicious lips sank into her tender lips, sucking onto her blood. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste her essence of life.

His tongue slowly caressed hers, earning him a gentle moan from her. The metallic taste seemed much sweeter from Draco's tongue. The sensation was so familiar yet completely new to her. She shuddered at the pleasure his tongue was offering hers, returning the favour by letting him explore the depths of her mouth.

Draco finally pulled away after what seemed like eternity, breathless. Hermione could have protested if she didn't need as much air as he did.

"Granger…" he inhaled deeply, finally giving in to his oxygen-deprived lungs. "Granger, did anyone tell you you're a great kisser?"

Hermione blushed shades of red. "Not yet," she replied cheekily, "but you could be the first one."

He stared at her, shock written all over his face. She could help but laugh at his reaction. _God_... Of all people she was talking kinky to; it had to be _Draco Malfoy_.

"Lost your tongue, Malfoy?"

He snapped back from his trace and smirked at her. "I might have left it in your mouth; could you check?" Hands folded across his chest, he was a cross between a jerk and a prince.

"Maybe," she replied with a nonchalant shrug, though butterflies fluttered furiously in her stomach.

"Did you enjoy it?" he smirked, "more than _cutting_?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide at his choice of subject. An uncomfortable silence followed but neither made an attempt to break it.

"Granger… Granger, you really should stop these _classes_," he spoke slowly, taking each word he was going to say into deep consideration. He ran his sleek fingers through his striking blonde hair, as though it took a lot of effort to voice his thoughts. "Granger, seriously, I advise you, as a… as a _schoolmate_, that… there's another way out of your troubles."

"Same goes to you, Malfoy," Hermione whispered, a warm fuzzy feeling filling her up.

"_Me_?" he gave a dry laugh. "If I don't kill myself, Granger, my blood will. There's no way out for me, but you… you're gonna be a great witch."

"I'd appreciate it if you keep this conversation within these four walls," he turned a tinted pink, "it's not as though I compliment mudbloods everyday. It won't do _either_ of us good if news of this leaks out," he sent her a warning glare.

"Err… _Thanks_," Hermione dug deep into the depths of her mind to find something appropriate to say; this was, after all, the first time Malfoy said something nice about her. "I know it's not everyday you admit that others are better than you."

He smirked, and she swore she saw a ghost of a smile. "Granger, you should seek help. I'm sure Potter and Weasel will do something. You've still got a long way to go; unlike me," he added sadly.

"Malfoy, if you have 3 months, then live them to the fullest. Why should you take away your future?"

"Because no one cares," he said simply, like it was a fact known to the world. "Not father, nor mother. The Dark Lord doesn't; neither does Snape. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise don't give a damn. If no one cares, why should I?" His tone was rising, and Hermione knew she was bringing up a sensitive subject.

"_I_ care, Malfoy," she said softly to herself. "I don't care if you're on the Dark Side, or if you're a Death Eater, I care about you." She turned to him, "and I believe so does Dumbledore. Come to our side. We'll help you."

Draco scoffed. "Don't lie to me, Granger!" His wand was drawn, ready to attack anytime. "You may not like me, but you don't have to insult me. I don't need a dead man caring about me, or a filthy mudblood like you."

He charged at her, pinning her to the wall, wand pointed at her heart. Hermione's eyes widened at his sudden attack, she was caught unawares, with no chance to defend herself.

"Malfoy, I mean what I say. You've misunderstood!"

She squirmed under his piercing gaze, struggling from his vice-like grip.

"_Avada-_"

"_You're not a murderer, Malfoy_!"

Draco's hand wavered and his wand landed on the floor with a _thud_. Hermione opened her eyes she didn't realize she had closed. She saw uncertainty in his soulful orbs, lost in a memory of what Dumbledore had told him.

"Malfoy, _please_. You're not a murderer; you know that," she said breathlessly.

The doubt in his eyes cleared, and he raised his hand again, though his wand was replaced with his silver dagger. Hermione felt her eyes brimming with tears. "You're not a murderer, Malfoy," she repeated. "You know I _do_ care. You won't kill me."

Hearing a blood-curling war cry, she felt a splitting pain on her right shoulder. She screamed in agony, pain engulfing her. She felt blood gushing out of her wound. It was nothing she had felt before, and all months of cutting could not have prepared her from a pain a stab brought. Feeling something solid withdrawn from her shoulder, she was forced to cling tightly onto Draco for support.

"See, Malfoy? You're not a murderer. If you wanted to kill me, you would have aimed _here_." She painfully brought his hand to her heart.

She blinked perspiration away from her eyes and observed him, taking in his shock. He was covered in blood.

_Her_ blood. Mudblood.

"Granger… I… I… I didn't mean to… I… I'm sorry…" He clutched her tightly to his chest as her frail legs threatened to give way. He could feel her blood flowing out of the wound he inflicted, forming a damp patch on his robes. He could feel her heart thumping; his target of the deadly attack.

He gently laid her on the floor, stripping his robe to try and stop the bleeding. Something was not right; he could feel it. The blood was flowing too fast, _way_ too fast.

"Granger, hang in there. I'll get a Professor." He tried to leave but her hand grasped his, preventing him from doing so.

"It's okay, Malfoy. I wanted this. I wanted to end it all, but I couldn't bring myself to. I just needed a little push, and you did it. I should thank you." She forced a smile, but coughed up blood.

"Granger... Granger, you don't want to die; no one will. I'll-"

"How many do you have?" she asked abruptly, pulling up one sleeve, feeling the roughness of the healing cuts.

"One for each mistake I made, so there should be hundreds," he smirked, failing to notice the deliberate change of subject. "Which reminds me…" he picked up his dagger again, and drew a long cut across his wrist, contributing more blood to the already covered floor.

"Malfoy, that's too deep!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide with fear.

"And the sin I've committed is too evil, too unforgivable," he smiled at her, ignoring the pain around his wrist.

"Malfoy, you could…" her breathing grew shallower, "…you could _die_ from that cut." She coughed blood again. Her world was spinning, and she felt faint. Though she had never experienced such a feeling, she knew she was going to die.

She half-expected a blinding light, before her life flashed past her, like in the novels she always read; but she had none of that. Instead she was left chillingly cold, and full of regrets.

"Malfoy!" she gasped, "Malfoy, I don't want to die! I haven't said goodbye to Harry and Ron; and I want to see my parents; and I haven't taken my N.E.W.Ts. And, and…" Each breath was now painful, but she continued to grasp around for Draco's hand. She couldn't see anymore, but she knew he was still there.

Draco gathered her up in his arms, and blood flowed to occupy the space she had left. He hugged her tightly with what little strength he had, knowing she was experiencing the cold he was going through.

"I'm scared, Malfoy…" she whispered faintly.

"Don't worry, Granger. I've got you, I've got you…"

Tears stung his eyes as he reflected on his actions. It was he, _he_, who had caused her so much misery and to take her life away. It was an unforgivable act, no matter how you looked at it. And now, he had to suffer the pain of watching her slowly, painfully, fade away. He deserved it.

"I'm scared…" Hermione repeated, holding tightly onto him.

"Don't worry… If you die first, I'll kill myself and catch up with you."

She laughed softly, knowing it will be her last. She felt him standing up, though it took a lot of effort. She closed her eyes and snuggled into his arms.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Do… Do you still care for me? After what I've done?"

Hermione couldn't resist a smile. Whoever expect Draco Malfoy to worry if a filthy little mudblood was concerned of his existence?

"Yes, I do, Malfoy. I care for you. I promise," she declared.

He felt her hand slide down his neck and his tear did the same.

"I care for you too, Granger; always."

………

No one in Hogwarts heard the gentle splash of water as two tormented souls finally found peace. Nothing was left of their blood appreciation class except for two abandoned razors on a blood-stained floor, and the smiles on their faces, fulfilling a promise to be kept till the very end.

……………

**A/N**: And thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat's it! (Crappy ending and all ;p) I think I just broke my own record for the longest fic ever written, both time and length. This one took me about 3 months, with a very bad writer's block somewhere in between. Then all lost inspiration flooded back after watching X tv series, so, TAHDAH! I must thank Alcestis for her help. And I sincerely apologise for the horrible kiss. (Don't expect too much from a never-been-kissed.)

(Hints) Reviews are free-of-charge, non time-consuming, good for your karma, good for you health, good for you, good for…


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